Date: Tue, 30 Jun 1998 22:10:57 -0700 From: LeeAnn Pultz Subject: Wash it Away (01/01) To: FKFIC-L@LISTS.PSU.EDU Well, *this* didn't go the way I had planned! I guess everyone has to have a "Last Knight" story - only I didn't mean for this to be mine! I just wanted to take a break from packing my apartment and write a brief story, based on what I understand a "Song Challenge" to be. I'm telling you all now - this one doesn't come with a happy ending! You've been warned! Obligatory Disclaimer: The song belongs to the band "black lab" and the characters of Forever Knight belong to James Parriott et al. Permission is given to archive this story at the fkfanfic site and the ftp site only. Anyone else, ask me! ******************************* "Wash it away" by black lab from the 1997 album "Your body above me" ******************************* "Wash it in the sea Let it soak all night Wash it in the sea Let the salt water wash it away" Natalie lay in bed, pillows behind her propping her up. Yawning, she picked up the remote and turned off the television. It had been a long day, and she was too tired to concentrate. Rolling over onto her back, she closed her eyes and let the soft tones from the clock radio wash over her. "Soak it in bleach Till it's white on white Soak it in bleach Till the blood just washes away" she thought. Caught up in memories, she allowed herself to travel back into the past. He had retreated into his protective shell again. What had happened that night at the loft had scared him. That whole time seemed like a bad dream now - first her friend committing suicide, then Tracy getting shot. It had been too much. The words in the journal had seemed to punch her in the gut. Desperate and afraid that she was going to lose him, she had confronted Nick. Made her ultimatum. Just take a little at a time. He hadn't wanted to. Had been afraid that he wouldn't be able to stop. She had faith in him she said. But she would have said anything, whatever he needed to hear to make him agree. To get past this wall that had come up between them. The wall came down. The visions had assaulted her when his teeth pierced her skin. The weight of the ages pressing down upon her, smothering her. And his victims. There had been so *many* of them. Over and over. *This* was what he had wanted to spare her, the words that he couldn't bring himself to say. The reason for the self-loathing the she sometimes saw in his eyes. The lassitude that had overcome her had come quickly. She lay there, feeling the heat of the fire on her side. This was where things had gotten fuzzy. Lacroix was there? Something about peaches? And Nick, telling his master that Lacroix was his closest friend? The next thing she knew for sure, she was waking up in a hospital bed. She had lost a lot of blood they told her. How had she gotten here? No one could tell her. Eventually, she fell back asleep, still weak from the loss of blood. The next time she woke, *he* was there. His blue eyes seemed almost black with regret, despair, and self-loathing. She couldn't bear the pain in those eyes, and tried to tell him it was all right, that she still loved him, but her body wouldn't obey her. All she managed was a strangled, "Nick". "Hang it in the wind Let it blow all night Hang it up high Let the high wind blow it away" Natalie thought. He would stay in Toronto until she was well enough to go back to work, he told her. Then he would leave. It was better that way. Better for whom, she had demanded. It had taken forever to convince him that she didn't hate him, didn't fear him or blame him. How could she? Even after years of studying him, looking for the cure, she hadn't known what he lived with. The blood lust. The hunger. She had learned more in those scant moments at the loft than she had from countless blood samples. Eventually, reluctantly, he agreed. To stay. To let her keep searching for a cure. "Hang it in the wind Let the sun burn bright Hang it in the wind Till the blood just washes away" She had learned something else, that night. The loneliness he felt. The yearning to walk in the sun. How *different* he felt from the rest of the human race. She hurt inside every time she let herself remember that. "I have waited wasted years For the child that's come and gone today I have wasted all this fear How can I just turn and wash it away?" That pain was what had given her the strength to continue. In the face of his lack of conviction, his hopelessness. When she was frustrated at his lack of enthusiasm, at his stubborn refusal to do more than submit to her tests, she had let her love for him, and her determination to heal that pain, renew her. Oh, he was polite. But distant. So very distant. Gone was the laughter, the brief flashes of happiness she had seen in recent years. He worked alone. Reese had tried to give him a new partner, but Nick had refused. Solo, or not at all. The department couldn't afford to lose their star detective. "If I can then I will Then I will wash it away If she can then she will Wash it away" He drank human blood. She hadn't have the heart to chastise him though. Because it was *her* fault. He had tasted *her* blood. Had felt *her* emotions. And it had wakened the beast. She could tell by the feral look in his eyes when she caught him watching her. He would always look away quickly, but she knew that he was constantly fighting the desire to finish what he'd started. To taste her blood again. Was she right to ask him to stay? Would he be happier away from her? She had asked him, two months after she recovered. He had gazed at her with those tormented eyes. Her heart had torn in two. Love couldn't conquer all. He had left a week later. "Forty years Spent one by one Forty years Of life just slipping away" She had gone on with her life. Eventually, she quit her job and moved to Vancouver. A fresh start. Six months in her new job, she met Dale. They married eight months later. A whirlwind romance, cried the office gossips. True love, said her co-workers. An escape, whispered the little voice in her head. It had lasted eight years. An amicable divorce. She had gotten a son out of their relationship. A son she named Nicholas. Someone she could love without reservation. "What I'd give For a firstborn son Forty years Of blood just washing away" Natalie smiled, looking at the picture of her grandchildren on the dresser across the room. Nicholas had grown up quickly. He went to college, became an architect. Married the woman he loved. Everything she could have wanted for him. If only he could have been Nick's son. "I have waited wasted lives I have waited long enough I'd say Say what about this wasted child How can I just turn and wash it away?" She had never tried to find him. Oh, when she had first moved to Vancouver, she had found herself in various bars. Even saw people she was sure were members of the Community. But she had never let herself *really* look. He had made his decision. They had both moved on with their lives. "If I can then I will Wash it away If she can then she will Wash it away" But she wondered. Where was he? What was he doing? Who was he with? Had he found a measure of happiness? Did he still search for a cure? Or had he given up? No. She couldn't bear that. He had to have found hope. She couldn't be the reason he gave up. Not after 800 years. "So send me an angel Send me the ghost that I was Send me an angel Send me the ghost that I was That I was, that I am" She didn't regret her life. Not really. How could she regret having her son? Being alive to watch him grow into a man, start a family of his own? But she wished, just for a moment, that she could see him again. See his innocent grin, so at odds with his experiences. That angelic smile. But she was old now. Used up. It was time to move on. What had she said to him that night? That she had faith. She could use some of that faith right now. "I will wash it away She will wash it away If I can then I will Then I will" She was tired. So tired. Time to sleep. was her last thought, as she eased into the peaceful darkness. *********************************** *********************************** comments? send marshmallows with any flames! LeeAnn ********************************** "Why don't you try a more conventional lifestyle, like living in an apartment? Real people live in apartments and houses, not warehouses." - The Pursemonger of Fugu by Greg Kramer